


Let's stay (in the here and now)

by Bohemian (Linguam)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Edom Angst (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Emotional Hurt, M/M, Magnus Bane Loves Alec Lightwood, Magnus would do anything for Alec, No Spoilers, even when it means his own ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguam/pseuds/Bohemian
Summary: Alec is rifling through the drawers in search of a clean shirt, barefoot and only in sweats, hair gorgeously sleep mussed. The early morning light dances off of the runes littered across his body, making them shimmer.From his place in bed, Magnus quietly drinks him in. He catalogues every dip and curve, every rune, every scar: tries to commit to memory the way Alec’s forehead scrunches up in concentration, the way his lips purse, how he tilts his head in consideration.





	Let's stay (in the here and now)

**Author's Note:**

> More angst is literally the last thing we need right now, and yet, this somehow happened. I apologize in advance.
> 
> This is set after they've defeated Lilith (with Asmodeus' help) and deals with the fallout of that. It's only speculation born from my own, masochistic brain, so no spoilers.

Alec is rifling through the drawers in search for a clean shirt, barefoot and only in sweats, hair gorgeously sleep mussed. The early morning light dances off of the runes littered across his body, making them shimmer.

From his place in bed, Magnus quietly drinks him in. He catalogues every dip and curve, every rune, every scar: tries to commit to memory the way Alec’s forehead scrunches up in concentration, the way his lips purse, how he tilts his head in consideration.

“Are you sure you can’t take the morning off?”

Alec sighs.

“Trust me, I wish I could.” He pulls a dark gray Henley over his head. His next words are muffled. “But I have a meeting with some Clave envoys in half an hour. They want a thorough account of the whole mess with Lilith.”

“Oh,” Magnus says, and tries not to let the overwhelming sense of loss he already feels bleed into his voice.

There is still time.

“How about lunch?” Alec asks. “We could go to that new Armenian place you’ve wanted to try?”

“Sadly, I already have plans with Cat.” Magnus doesn’t tell Alec that he won’t be in town for lunch; that, in fact, he won’t even be in this dimension. There is no reason to burden him with the truth.

“Oh,” Alec says, clearly disappointed, and Magnus is once again hit with the realization of exactly how much he loves him, because he does. So, so much.

He wishes he had more time to show him, that he could make Alec see just how much the time they’ve had together—short as it may have been—has changed him. How he has cherished every moment, no matter how fleeting. More than anything, Magnus wishes that he could spare Alec the heartache he knows his actions will cause, but that is simply beyond his power.

Alec is alive. He is safe. In the end, that is all that matters.

Blinking the bedroom back into focus, he takes note of the sudden silence. Looking up, he finds himself at the receiving end of a very familiar frown.

“Are you okay?” Alec asks, eyes narrowed. He has stopped trying to get ready, a pair of black socks held loosely in his hand.

Magnus plasters a smile on his face.

“Perfectly all right, Alexander.”

Alec doesn’t look convinced.

“You sure? You seem a bit… off.” His hazel eyes are searching, but Magnus knows that he won’t find anything. Because Magnus doesn’t want him to.

This is his cross to bear.

“Positive,” he assures with a nod. Digging deep, he somehow manages to summon a sultry smirk. “Now, stop depriving me of all that Shadowhunter glory and come over here.”

Alec rolls his eyes, brow still creased in a light frown, but he does move to sit on the bed. His expression clearly states that he’s not buying the deflection as much as he’s _choosing_ not to pursue the topic and, as Magnus leans in to press their lips together, he has never been more grateful for Alec’s determination not to push him.

The kiss is soft and unhurried, so full of love and reassurance that Magnus wants to cry. It’s torture, and at the same time exactly what he needs.

He keeps his eyes closed when they pull part, tries to memorize the softness of Alec’s lips, the taste of him: how short puffs of air tingle across his face with every shallow exhale.

When he eventually opens his eyes, he finds Alec watching him intently.

“You’d tell me if something was going on, right?” he asks, and the hand that reaches to gently cup Magnus’ cheek is almost too much to bear.

Magnus keeps the smile on his face through sheer willpower.

“Of course.”

Alec looks at him a beat longer before nodding.

“Okay.” He moves in for another far-too-quick kiss and Magnus has to force himself not to reach out and pull him back— _just a few more seconds, just a little while longer_ —when he withdraws and rises from the bed. “I have to go; no reason to give them even more to complain about. I’ll see you tonight?”

Magnus takes in how the sun nestles into his raven hair, the openness of the hazel eyes currently resting on him from across the room, and nods.

“See you tonight,” he says softly. “Alexander?”

Alec, already half-way out the door, immediately turns around.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I love you.”

Alec’s eyes turn soft.

“I love you, too. I’ll grab some Ethiopian on my way back, yeah?”

Magnus swallows down the million broken pieces of his heart trying to cut their way through his throat and doesn’t let the smile waver.

“It’s a date.”

He watches Alec go, and it’s a good thing that the Shadowhunter doesn’t turn around, because he can’t hide the way grief mars his face, leaving salty trails down his cheeks.

Twenty minutes later, Magnus stands in the apothecary, flames sprouting from a familiar pentagram on the floor. One hand is in his pant pocket, squeezing the familiar outlines of the omamori charm.

“Forgive me, Alexander.”


End file.
